Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“So you took care of him until he died?”

“Yeah,” she mused, sounding sad. “He only lived a year, but it was nice to get to know him. It’s funny how my mother couldn’t stand him, but she has a lot of his mannerisms. He and I even have the same laugh. Genetics.” She shrugged. “I never would have known that was a thing. Who’d have thought you could have the same laugh as someone you’d never met, just because of genes?”

He frowned. “So he died a year ago, but you’re still not forgiven?”

“No. I may never be, but I’m okay with that.”

“You’d think they’d be more forgiving, considering they’re missionaries.”

“I think this was just one of those soul-deep things for my mom. She couldn’t get past it.

“Don’t you miss them?”

She grimaced and shrugged. “It wasn’t like we were close in the first place. I was never what they wanted me to be. I’m too dirty. I have a big mouth. I’m too opinionated. Anyway, they’re far away, and they’ve disowned me, so whatever. I’m tired of pretending to be being a pale imitation of myself to please them. I think they’re happier with me gone. They don’t even send a card on my birthday.”

Idiots.

“Do you feel like they’ve forgotten about you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they won’t even mention my name if they get together at Christmas.”

He nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. I often imagine my family at these perfect family dinners, laughing together. I’m not sure why I do that to myself. I’m sure my sisters didn’t have a great life either.”

She laid her hand over the one that still held her ankle, then snatched it away again and gave him an apologetic smile. Not only had she forgotten he didn’t like being touched, she’d almost made him forget that too.

“My sister, Pearl, got married about six months ago. I found out on Facebook – and only because someone posted pics. Of course I torturing myself by looking at them every few days. My family looks so perfect and happy without me.”

Fuck. He didn’t know how to comfort people. She wasn’t crying, but her being sad about something he couldn’t control made him antsy.

How did people navigate this?

He grunted. “Do you want me to...slash their tires or something?”

She burst out laughing then seemed to realize he was serious and her eyes went round.

“No!” She covered her mouth with one of her small hands, her eyes sparkling. “You can’t slash people’s tires just because they hurt my feelings!”

“Well – I – It’s not fair that they did that to you. You took care of an old man. It’s not like you tried to bring him over to their place. Why can’t they just get over it?”

“I think they see it as a betrayal. Like I chose his side over my mom’s. But when you see people suffering like that in real life, it’s hard to walk away. Your heart goes out to them. Ben wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve to die alone.”

“Is that why you stay with me?”

She blew out a sigh of annoyance. “Oh my god, get it through that thick head of yours! I’m not here out of pity. This isn’t about a job anymore, or do-gooding. What your family did to you – leaving you here – wasn’t fair. It makes me protective, but I’m here because I care about you. I feel like we’re connected somehow.” She blushed hard, but went on so fast her words tripped over each other. “Maybe that feeling is one-sided and my imagination is just running away with me. Whatever. What it comes down to is that I’m here because I...like you. You’re a good man.” She opened his beer and took a sip, her gaze daring him to punish her for taking it without asking.

He arched a brow. “After everything I do to you, you think I’m a good man?”

She shifted to the very edge of the table, closer to him. “You know I like it. You wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.”

He grabbed the backs of her thighs, just below her ass, and lifted her back into his lap to straddle him.

“So does that mean you’ll be here for Christmas, Miss Korsgaard?”

“Unless you want me to go away. I have nowhere else to go, but I could get a hotel room. Although, I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave the property without you.”

“You’re not. You’re stuck on The Island of Misfit Toys, my poor little twisted doll.” He kissed her and put his hand up her dress, finding the edge of her panties and tracing the leg band. “Rodrigo visits our island, but he can hide what he is. Church escaped, but he didn’t belong here like we do.”

He took the beer from her hand and turned her over his lap. A weird coil of lust shivered through him as he tugging down her frilly panties and bared her ass. He rubbed his palm over her quivering flesh, back and forth, lulling her until he couldn’t hold off any longer. His first smack landed and she gave a plaintive moan, the sound perfect and needy.